


Drumming Song Inside My Chest

by ghosts_and_moles (firstloveghost)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sort Of, spoilers for the first chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstloveghost/pseuds/ghosts_and_moles
Summary: "Something was off. Ilya noticed as soon as the boy turned around and their eyes met.Different colors. One black like charcoal, the other almost white, almost blind.A fragile frame, short, shorter than Asra himself, but full of rage."Julian's prospective on some events of the first 6 (i think) chapters. Slightly canon divergent.





	Drumming Song Inside My Chest

**Author's Note:**

> this game is my happiness........  
> -cas

Something was off. Ilya noticed as soon as the boy turned around and their eyes met. _Different colors_. One black like charcoal, the other almost white, almost blind.

A fragile frame, short, shorter than Asra himself, but full of rage.

His whole behaviour reminded him of a fire, ready to burn him if he wasn’t careful.

Ilya was merely curious at first. He had other things to worry about, more important than a petite boy with unruly black hair and slightly tanned skin, hugged by a _way too short_ top with long sleeves.

But there was something off, he could tell.

As first he thought it was magic, that unreachable feeling, unexplainable and mysterious, _dangerous_ even. After all, Cadmun was Asra’s apprentice and, if he took after his master, he certainly knew how to hocus-pocus his way out of the most difficult situations.

After meeting once more, out of the shop, that idea slipped away from his mind: magic was not the answer, it’d be too simple. Yet there was _something else_ that didn’t add up, and _oh_ , Ilya liked mysteries.

But after seeing Pasha, right there, crying for him once again, he felt too tired to think it over in his head, as the reflection of Cadmun’s black eye twinkling in the dim light followed him in the dead of night.

After a couple of days spent wandering around in the streets, he would catch himself caressing his own gloved fingers, picturing shorter, thinner ones full of dark rings. How’d they feel in his bare palm, soft on his cheeks, rough around his neck.

At the end of the week, at Mazelinka’s, he wouldn’t stop tossing and turning around in bed because the thought of full lips would _hunt_ him.

Ilya started to think this was a form of hunger.

Hunger for what...he didn’t know exactly.

For longed answers, for frantic kisses, for foolish beauty that could make fun of death.

What he knew was that he was asking for the moon. Dreaming about something that will never be brought to life, because he was cursed and hopeless and helpless and all those pretty thing Asra used to remind him of.

 

He tried to _starve_ himself, ignoring Cadmun’s presence as much as he could.

Fate had different plans apparently because the night he had decided to throw away the last remanence of his long lost past life, he had found him near the poisonous water, just out of town.

Half convinced he was a mirage, Ilya called out to him. “Cadmun?”

The boy turned fast, surprised but never scared, and his eyes left Ilya breathless. Just like the first time they has seen each other, the white one shone in the light of the full moon.

 _Oh, what a vision_. Cadmun was wearing very expensive-looking clothes, purple and blue fabrics intertwining on his hips. Ilya was so focused on him he even forgot to feel out of place with his old dirty dark coat.

“Julian,” ah, _right_ , that was his name now, wasn't it “what are you doing here?” he asked.

Taking a little breath, Ilya glued back his dramatic persona.

“Fickle thing, life, isn’t it?”

 

After running and running, to shake the guards off, to bring himself back on Earth, to stop feeling that horrendous drumming noise inside his chest every time Cadmun was near, Ilya had to admit to himself he felt so immensely tired of it all.

He had endured so much pain, structured so many masks to cover it up, burned almost every bridge he had ever built in his life and emptied his heart completely more than once.

He knew he deserved this, his mistakes, his _sins_ , they were unforgivable. But that constant _thud_ in his chest was louder than any siren in his head.

Cadmun, with his shaky laugh, his blunt mannerism, his contemptuous look, tore apart every wall he built without even trying.

Ilya was fragile. Ilya was not ready for whatever _that_ was. Ilya was not even Ilya anymore, he was Julian Devorak, the doctor that killed Count Lucio, burning him alive at the Masquerade.

Then why, _why_ did Cadmun look at him with the same hunger in his _oh so pretty_ eyes? Why did he kiss him like Ilya was air, water, fire, earth, _magic._

Why did he smile at him on their small journey, why did he argue with him when Ilya decided it was enough indulging and broke off whatever _their thing_ was.

Well, it was time to drink.

Ilya blinked and out of the blue he was _so_ _drunk_ and Pasha (why were there two Pashas?) was standing there with Cadmun the angel and everything was blurry.

Suddenly, color bloomed on the boy’s cheeks and he avoided to look at Ilya in the eyes. Oops, he must have said that angel part out loud.

Oh well, he will have time to regret it later. For now, it was time to sleep.

 

When he woke up, he wasn’t in Mazelinka’s bed, nor slumped in a dirty alley, which was extremely weird. He was sure he went to drink (and possibly get into a fight) last night, but the rest of the memories were a little foggy, which was also weird.

He sat up and noticed someone sleeping in a not-very-comfortable looking chair near the bed. Cadmun’s unruly black hair were even messier than Ilya remembered and he smiled without noticing. Ah, that could be have been a treasured memory.

Looking around, Ilya saw the sun was about to rise so he decided it was time to sneak out, wherever he might have been.

He tried to be as quiet as possible getting out of bed and getting his coat on but once outside the door of the little cottage he was in, he found Pasha playing with a cat, probably waiting for him, wide awake.

As soon as she saw him she ran to him and hugged him tight, standing on her tiptoes. Ilya smiled freely, savoring the sensation. It had been so long since Pasha hugged him without crying. She must have rescued him the night before.

“Hey, Pasha” he whispered in her ear.

She snorted loudly, in a dramatic fashion. “Don’t _“hey Pasha”_ me, mister!” she said, imitating his low pitched voice, “I was worried sick!”

Ilya gently put his head on hers. “I’m sorry.” he said.

She hid her face in his shoulder. “You always say that...”

Suddenly someone opened the front door of the cottage, scaring the cat away. “Portia, he’s..!” Cadmun said, rushing out, right before seeing the brother and sister hugging.

He sounded so relieved when he said “Ah, there you are, thank the Gods.”

Ilya detached himself from Pasha to look at him. His hair were still sticking out in a million directions, his expensive clothes wrinkled and vaguely stained.

But _oh,_ he was still gorgeous, a true vision for Ilya’s eye.

Pasha looked at the two of them for a second and then excused herself babbling something about breakfast.

Ilya stared at Cadmun for a long second where the boy looked extremely shy, unsure of what to do, right before throwing his arms around his neck and inhaling loudly.

“I thought I had lost you again” he said, closing his eyes.

Ilya put his arms around his waist and let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Cadmun stepped back reluctantly to look at him in the eye, a frown forming on his face.

“If you ever say that we need to talk again, I’m gonna shave your head. You hear me? You’re gonna be bald, mind my words.”

Ilya laughed out loud at that “Oh, _scary._ ” he said, right before kissing Cadmun full on the mouth, feeling the boy’s frown become a full-blown smile.

Ilya didn’t know what they were yet, but he was sure now: that something _odd_ , that feeling of _hunger_ in the pit of his stomach, merely were feelings for the boy currently in his arms, as clichè as that sounded.

As they kept kissing the sun started to rise, illuminating the field of grass and flowers below their feet.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading  
> -cas  
> p.s. should i write more...?


End file.
